


Fading Light

by LibraryMage



Series: Ktavnukkah 5778 [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Autistic Character, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hanukkah, the Bridgers are space Jews, this fic is nothing but sadness. i'm sorry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Ezra's finally found a warmer place to spend the winter, but it still isn't home.





	Fading Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ktavnukkah day two. Prompt: light.

Ezra shivered, rubbing his arms to try and drive back the cold that had sunk under his skin.  Here in the tower, he had more protection from the cold than he was used to, but winter on this part of Lothal was harsh, with freezing winds so powerful it felt like knives against your skin.

Not for the first time, Ezra found himself thinking how grateful he was that he had found this place after five years of sleeping in a different place every night or finding the occasional squat that, if he was lucky, only lasted a few weeks at most.  The tower wasn’t connected to a power grid anymore, so there wasn’t any heat, but the insulated walls kept the worst of the cold at bay.  Still, even safely indoors, Ezra could feel the winter chill all around him, and it was only getting colder as the sun was setting.

As the deeper, biting cold of the night closed in around him, and the light coming in from the crack under the door -- _gotta find something to cover that_ , Ezra thought, _keep the cold out better_ \-- began to fade, it hit him.  He ran through the past few days in his head, trying to make sure he was right.  Keeping track of the date was never very high on his list of priorities.  It took him a moment, but he realized his instinct had been correct.  Ezra curled in tighter on himself as he remembered staring up with wide eyes at a cluster of lights shining in the window, remembered his father lifting him up, holding him on his hip, remembered his mother’s voice speaking words he could only half-recall.

The memories shot through him like a burst of static electricity, driving him to his feet.  He crossed the small room and began rummaging through a small box in the corner.  It was full of what definitely qualified as junk to most people, but that Ezra knew would be useful to have around when he needed it.  Jammed against the edge of the box, he found what he was looking for.  The remains of a candle.  Someone had thrown it away and Ezra had kept it, thinking it was never a bad idea to have a non-electrical light source, especially when you lived in a place with no power.  It took a moment for him to find the lighter he’d stolen buried at the bottom of the box.

With both objects clutched tightly in his hand, Ezra braced himself for a second before opening the door.  The cold air hit him as he stepped outside, already shivering even harder after only a few seconds.  He sat down on the freezing metal of the platform and placed the candle in front of him.  It was just one and he was far enough out from the city that it was unlikely anyone would see it, but it was all he could do.

Hands shaking from the cold, Ezra carefully lit the candle.  For a moment, staring into the small, glowing light, he almost, _almost_ felt like he was back home, his parents by his side, surrounded by their warmth and love.  He could feel the words rising to the surface in his mind, distant and half-remembered.

As he opened his mouth to speak, they began to fade.  The harder he tried to remember, the faster the prayer that should have been familiar slipped away.  He couldn’t remember.  He _should_ remember.

He quickly snuffed out the candle, a lump forming in his throat as he stumbled to his feet.  As he shut himself back inside the relative warmth of the tower, he brushed away tears he didn’t realize had begun sliding down his face.  This was just another thing about his parents that he was slowly forgetting.  He wondered if his memory of his mother’s voice was even what she’d really sounded like.

As Ezra leaned against the cold metal of the wall, he found himself saying words he thought he’d long since put behind him.

“I want to go home,” he said quietly.  “I just want to go home.”


End file.
